


Bloody Lip

by Crymore



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Puns, Heart to Hearts, Kind of a character study, M/M, Pre Relationship, dyslexic Leonard snart, mentions of sinlings fist fighting, pre coldatom, puns to make ray feel better, ray used to be violent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 08:38:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16036862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crymore/pseuds/Crymore
Summary: Ray was known to be the least aggressive person on the Waverider. Len and Mick call bullshit and start snooping. The team discovers why Ray goes out of his way to be peaceful.





	Bloody Lip

**Author's Note:**

> So this was requested, and I hope I did the requestee justice. Enjoy!

Ray took a deep breath as he placed the pen down on his desk with the mess of tools. The knot inside his stomach had unfurled itself slowly as he wrote and by the time the letter was finished, Ray could breath easily without wanting to put his fist through a door. His hand aches a bit, it was a long letter, but he needed to get all his emotions out before they started fester in him. 

It was another letter to Felicity. It was much like the other ones he had written to her, about how angry he was that she never loved him to begin with and how she loved Oliver, she never should have used Ray as a stepping stool; especially since Oliver’s jealousy tore a hole in the potential friendship they could have had. The whole slew of emotions was brought on by Mick making an off hand comment on Ray’s relationship, or lack thereof. Ray finished Mick’s letter earlier. 

The scientist sighed deeply, one last time to shake the remnants of aggression that quickly fell away as he exhaled, before pulling out one of the many binders from a milk crate under his desk and slipping the letter into the empty, clear sleeve. 

Ray didn’t like looking at his old letters. He saw them and all he sees is how mad he had become and silly that reaction was at the time. He chastised himself- sadness and anger demand to be felt, whether he liked it or not; at least he was doing someone positive about it instead of… his previous methods for coping. 

This binder was different from the others. It was black (Black is a sad color for sad things, like funerals and storm clouds), as opposed to the blue and red binders in the crate (blue and red were Ray’s favorite colors). Those ones hold sketches and idea and blueprints for inventions and such. 

He made sure to bury the black binder at the bottom of the crate. Just in case. 

—-

Len had always snooped through peoples rooms. Even as a kid, he’d tiptoed around his father’s room, careful not to disturb the amber glass bottles on the ground, just for the thrill of it. 

Mick had more or less done the same growing up. It helped in their business, being able to sneak around undetected, knowing everything, every nook and cranny of their current residence. 

It was only natural to snoop through the others rooms. 

Everyone had their little secrets. 

Jax had skin mags shuffled with his sport and mechanic catalogs. Stein had weed (shocker). Kendra had a literal list of boys she’s dated (Len only knew because Cisco’s name was on it) with the title “CONQUERED” scrawled on top. Sara had an old diary filled with her anger at her sister for hogging Oliver Queen to herself and how Sara sleeping with him behind her back was justified (many of the pages were covered in a black X, but it did little to deter Len from reading). Rip had a copious stash of alcohol in his quarters (again, shocker), and what looked like to be women’s clothing, but he and Mick abandoned the room rather than explore that rabbit hole. 

Now they wanted to explore Ray’s room.

“I bet he’s got some kinky shit or something in there. Like handcuffs and whips.”

“Betting or hoping, Mick?”

Mick growled at his partner as they entered Ray’s room. 

“Come‘ on Len, happy sappy Raymond’s gotta have something here. No ones that sunny unless they’re on drugs.” The was a beat. “If we find drugs I have dibs.”

Len rolled his eyes and he lifted up Ray’s mattress. The odds of Ray being a druggie were as likely as Stein secretly being catholic. Nothing under the bed. Boo.

“Yo, check this out.”

“Coke?” Len snarked.

Mick chuckled. “Might be better.”

Len looked over to see a pile of blue and red binders on the ground and Mick holding a black plastic milk crate. Len raised an eyebrow at to only black binder in the pile. 

“Might not be anything.” He mused. 

“Could be something.” Mick countered, reaching down to snatch the binder. 

He flipped through a few pages with a scowl before tossing it to Len. 

“No good?”

“I forgot my glasses.”

Len scoffed harshly, grip tightening on the binder’s spine. “I can’t read, remember?”

Mick sighed and snatched the binder back. “Well we cant bring it with us, more likely we’ll get caught with it.”

“We don’t even know if anything worthwhile is in it. I say we ditch it.”

Mick scowled in response before holding the the binder open at arms length, so she could properly read. The only one there to judge or make fun of him was Snart, and he’s already made all the old man jokes he could.

Len rolled his eyes and continued looking around. He found an old photo of Raymond and some pretty dark haired woman, back when the hero was younger with longer hair. Len scowled at the happy image and spitefully slapped it face down on the side table before continuing. 

“Holy shit.”

“What.”

“Lenny, this is like, Haircuts diary or something.”

Len looked to his partner in confusion before joining him. Len didn’t bother to look at the loopy script on the notebook page; it would only swirl and away and distort itself to the point of giving Len a headache.

“They look like letters, and not the lovey-dovey kind. Listen to this, this is to the Arrow guy in Starling.” Mick dramatically clear his throat before continuing. Len’s eyes flickered to the door to make sure no one was approaching.

“‘You are nothing but a glorified murderer, a selfish man who thinks because he made some bad guys meet their makers justifies or forgive the horrible way you used to treat people and the way you act now. Just because the villains of your city are scared of you, doesn’t make you any less selfish-‘“

“That can’t be Ray.” Len interrupted. “The man thinks Green Arrow is the greatest thing since sliced bread.” He sneered. “You should see the way he moons over him.”

Mick smirked. “He signed his name, Len. I think Haircut writes those murder notes or something.”

“Poison Pen letters.”

“Whatever. This ones to Sara. ‘You swing between either hating yourself for being a monster or brag about incessantly. Make up your mind, do you want us to sympathize with you or be afraid of you. Either way you’re just looking for attention.’ Damn.”

Len scoffed a laugh. “… anything to us?”

“He called me a calloused asshole who obviously has deep-rooted family and commitment problems.” The pyro shrugged. “Nothing my shrinks haven’t said.” He flipped through the pages until finding what he was looking for. “He called you a con man who’s really bad at lying because you have a tell.”

“I do not!” Len said hotly. As if Raymond paid enough attention to the thief to notice his tells.

“He says you look down when you’re being insincere.”

That… actually might be true.

“He also says that the tough guy act you put up just shows people that you have issues with rejection.”

Okay, ouch. Maybe Ray did pay enough attention. 

So instead of acting on his anger it bottling up, Raymond wrote 

“There’s a letter for everyone on the ship.”

Len cocked his head in thought. “Even the teeny-bopper?”

“Just one for him, something about not being “gracious for the opportunity he’s been given.” I dunno, Haircut’s kinda wordy.”

Len meditated I’m the situation at hand. Ray was not the type to get angry and hold a grudge, or so he thought. Rather than confront the people he’s pissed at, Ray seemed to write and angry not and not send it. Oh, it was too good a set up, too perfect the opportunity.

The thief smirked and turned to his partner. “Janitors, fathers, security guards… we’ve played quite a few roles, haven’t we, Mick?” At the confused look the pyro leveled him with, Len continued. “Maybe we should play “mailman”? These letter are addressed after all.”

Mick smirked too, a little vicious glint appeared in his eye. The glint he got back in juvie when they were on the yard together and Mick had the perfect revenge for the people that had tormented them. That kind of high-school bully look where hurting people was fun. 

Len couldn’t judge. He had the same look.

—-

When Ray came back from his shower, something in his room felt off. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, so he decided not to dwell on the feeling. 

But he did frown at Anna’s picture. Usually, he had it faced towards him, now it was face down on his side table. Maybe it just fell over

—-

Breakfast was in full swing by the time Raymond managed to sluggishly make his way to the dining room. He had tossed and turned all night with a dreadful feeling in his stomach for some reason. 

The room was tense when the tall hero entered, food left untouched on the table. Each member was looking at him with a variety of looks, none of them positive. 

“Morning guys.” No response, and Ray just remained in the doorway. “What’s up?” He tried lamely.

The only ones who looked happy were the pair from Central. Mick was leaning back in his chair looking smug and Len looked as if he was barely holding in laughter. Which was odd, because Leonard never laughs unless it’s at someone else’s expense. 

That sent Ray into a spiral of concern.

“So,” Sara started with a bite, “I seek out attention?”

Ray’s stomach dropped. His ears rang, his face burned, and suddenly all of his appendages refused to move.

Kendra regarded cooly before speaking. “I think I can make on own judgement on the men I date, regardless if they, oh, what was it?” With flourish, the winged priestess unfolded a piece of worn notebook paper. “Toss me off a building because I rejected them.” 

“And what’s this about me being ungrateful?” Jax chimed in, face twisted in anger. 

Ray stared wide-eyes at his teammates. 

“Where… where did you get th-those.” Ray could feel his teeth start to itch with the need to grind, felt his jaw twitch the set itself rigid.

Rip rolled his eyes and produced his own letter. “It was the morning post. Slipped under our doors in the middle of the night. Any clue how they got there?”

Ray floundered, his head was hurting. Those were in his room. In his binder in his crate in his room. 

“Who went into my room!”

Ray felt like he was spiraling. He felt ashamed and angry and that age old awful familiar want to hit something flooded through his veins and made his fist clench and arms tense. 

“Mr. Palmer, that’s not the problem at hand!” Stein scolded. “The problem is that you have seemed to be writing our, our flaws as it were, in very negative-“

Ray had already stopped listening, staring hyper-focused on a clear spot on the table.

‘Count to ten and breath. Remove yourself from the situation to calm down. Calm down and leave.’ 

The tall hero turned heel and left the room. 

The others followed him.

Their talking overlapped each other. Stein and Jax were yelling; Sara, Rip, and Kendra were hissing thing harshly and demanding apologies; all while Len and Mick snickered between each other. 

Raymond felt hot all over, felt mad all over. Suddenly it wasn’t because the team (the whole fucking team) was mad at him, it was because someone went into his room. Someone looked for and found those letters and knew what they were and gave them to the team. To humiliate Ray. To hurt Ray. 

The same way Sydney used to. The was his twin dug into his backpack to ruin Ray’s homework and projects, how he brought all of Ray’s underwear to school and shoved it into girls’ lockers, how he poured cold water on Ray as a wake up call. 

Back then, Ray didn’t write angry letters to deal with his emotions. He stooped to Sydney’s level. 

(The back of Ray’s mind doesn’t want him to hurt his team, but his team had hurt him, so it was fair, right?) (It wasn’t fair. Ray didn’t walk to be that person everyone is afraid of, he never wants to stoop that low again). 

But their voices were louder than Ray’s rational thoughts. Mick’s laughter was louder. 

Ray felt embarrassment and rage toss and writhe beneath his skin, his pumping blood barely drowning out his teammates. He hissed a breath between his teeth and closed his eyes. 

Between his blink, Ray turned drastically on his heels and slammed the side of his fist into the hallway way. The panel dented, curling around his arm and hand. The chattering stopped completely by the time Ray opened his eyes.

Ray didn’t like the scene in front of him. Both Stein and Jax were still stepping away, half concerned, half afraid. Rip and Sara look surprised by the outburst. Kendra now looked angry, looked challenged and poised to fight. Mick still looked amused, but… wary. Eyeing Ray up and down, as if he were expecting him to fight. 

Len looked scared. Straight up terrified, half behind Mick with wide eyes and slightly crouched to make himself look smaller. 

If Raymond wasn’t furious, he’d be worried. Instead he went off. Even Ray couldn’t tell you what he said, but he remembered he was yelling and cursing and at the end of it all the team all looked like Leonard. Scared. 

Then Ray said something about air and left the ship, still in his pajamas without any shoes on into the forest that the ship was currently anchored in. 

It was early morning in 1879 Canada, and the ground was dewy, making the legs of Ray’s pants moist and he marched carelessly through the field and deeper into the wooded areas of the forest. He eventually sat down roughly on the dirt, leaning against a redwood. 

All Ray could think to do was pout. He curled up his legs and folded his arms over them and stared at the tree in front of him and pouted. He was still mad, the crew was still scared, and it wouldn’t do him any good to dwell on whatever he screamed earlier in a blind rage. So he sat, and pouted, and tried to calm his heart rate. 

He sat there long enough for his pants to dry completely and long enough that his stomach began yelling at him for not eating before storming out, but Ray stayed where he was alone.

Until Leonard Snart sat down next to him, stiff as a corpse and just as pale. 

Neither said anything for long minutes. Ray curled into himself more and Len copied his stance. They stayed still long enough for Ray to wonder if Snart was really there or if he was just imagining it. 

“I’m sorry for going into your room and giving the team your letters.” 

Ray shrugged at Len’s apology. “‘M sorry I scared you when I hit the wall.”

Len made a displeased noise in the back of his throat. “I pissed you off, it only fair.”

“It’s not.” Ray snapped. The outburst caused Len to startle. When the thief didn’t look like he was about to bolt anymore, Ray continued. “It’s just- when I was younger, my brother and I got into a lot of fights.” He reveal reluctantly. “I don’t mean petty, one punch then cry about it fights, I mean violent and bloody fight almost every day.” Ray didn’t, couldn’t, look to Leonard to see his reaction, so he just soldiered on in his story. “One time I broke Sydney’s collar bone after he broke my foot.”

That wasn’t a pleasant memory.

Ray could feel Len move closer, but Ray ignored the comfort and continued. 

“We has these awful fist-fights. I had my nose broken more than I can count and can’t even tell you how any of those fights started. Anything set us off. Syd ate the last apple or I wouldn’t let him copy my homework and the next thing I know we’re rolling on the living room floor trying to kill each other.” Ray gave a bitter chuckle to himself, feeling the burning gaze from Leonard on the side of his face. “One time we were in the local paper because of our fights. We were arguing outside the school and one of us punched the other and… I can’t really remember what happened after that. I hit my head pretty hard against the ground when we were wrestling.”

Len was silent for a moment before responding. “I didn’t know you had… such a-“

“Violent streak?” Ray offered.

“… you just don’t seem the type.”

Ray shrugged. “I never thought I was. I thought it was fine if I fought with Sydney because he was my brother. Siblings fight, it’s normal.”

Ray thought of Lisa Snart. Leonard’s beloved baby sister. Something told Ray Len would literally rather die than ever cause his sister physical harm. Len uncomfortable shifting shoulders told Ray that Len too, wasn’t thrilled with the mental image of having a knock out drag out with Lisa. 

“I want to say it’s my dad’s fault.” Ray stated. “Because he used to hit me and Syd when he was mad at us and he used to hit things and throw them around to intimidate us-“

“Ray...” Len… cooed? His name sounded wounded and sad on Leonard’s lips. Soft and sympathetic. 

“One time Syd actually hit back.” Ray rushed, the memory of watching his father finally getting hit back brought a sick twist of glee to the hero. “It was reflexive. Dad slapped Sydney across the face for his bad grades and Syd just socked him in the jaw. Dad hit his head on the fire place.” He shifted, the bark of the tree now uncomfortable against his back. “We went to the hospital. Dad was fine, head wise, but after all the x-rays and MRI’s, it turned out dad had terminal heart cancer.”

Len let the information soak in. “… wasn’t your dad a heart surgeon?”

Ray gave a wholly inappropriate giggle. “Yup.”

His muted laughter was joined with Len’s. The irony was hilarious, all things considered. Really a cruel twist of fate. 

Once the laughter died down Ray became somber again.

“Dad’s death only made things worse for Syd and I. We used to fight in private, but then we’d only fight in public. As soon as we were alone we’d just-“ he hissed a sigh. “- just hide in our rooms. Away from each other.”

Ray barely felt Len’s fingers brush against his arms. 

“Mom got sick of it. I mean, her husband was dead and her kids wouldn’t stop fighting, so she dragged us to therapy.”

“That must’ve been fun.” Len drawled, finally curling his fingers around Ray’s bicep.

Ray scoffed. “Believe it or not, Sydney was the one who took everything better. It took me about four months before I started doing anything Dr. Sessian suggested. You know, deep breathing, self forgiveness, actually addressing problems, writing the letters-“

“How long have you been doing that? The letters?”

Ray shrugged and ignored how Len’s hand and arm began to wrap itself around Ray’s.

“… a long time. Before it was just between Syd and I.” Ray chuckled a bit, shimming down to be lower than Len, feeling comfortable next to him. “They’re were short. Like ‘You ate the last of the lunch meat. Fuck you.’ Then I’d draw a picture of a dick and slide it under his door. Then I’d get a letter say ‘You used the car and didn’t refill it with gas. You’re an asshole’ and he drew a picture of me exploding and he slip it under my door.” Len breathed a small laugh with Ray. “We… we never got… closer, I guess. We can stand to be around each other and small talk with the best of them, but I don’t think we could ever be siblings. Not like Sara and Laurel, or Oliver and Thea. Not like you and Lisa.”

Len turned to Ray at the mention of his sister, his nose brushing into Ray’s hair. He swallowed thickly. The only saving grace Len had some days was Lisa, his baby sister. He couldn’t imagine not being close to her, imagine being strangers with someone who shared his blood and trauma. 

“It got easier when I got older. I wrote more detailed letters but didn’t send them. Usually at the end of the year I burn them all. It’s just…” Ray shifted more again, leaning on to Leonard more heavily. “I don’t want to scare people they way my dad used to scare me or how I used to scare Sydney. I don’t want to be a threat to my friends.” He bemoaned. 

Len let Ray rest against him, let him reveal his wish in the peace and silence of the woods. The words circled in the air for a bit before Len shattered the silence.

“They all kind of feel bad now.” Len explained. “Jax went off about how they shouldn’t be mad at you for feeling things and it’s better that you just bitched about them in private rather than behind their backs.”

Raymond breathed a sigh through his nose. “How’d the rest of them take it?”

The thief curled around the hero, placing his chin on the crown of dark hair. “Stein and Kendra are on Jax’s side, Rip got over it as soon as he was on it, and Sara’s more pissed at me than at you right now.”

Ray hummed. “What did you do.” He commanded softly, resting his check fully on Len’s shoulder. 

“I told her I read her old diary and that keeping it showed she’s still vindictive about her sister and Oliver.”

Raymond’s head shot up and he gave Leonard a wide-eyed look of disbelief. “Leonard!” He scolded. “You can’t lord that over someone!”

Len chuckled and waved his hand through the air, as if to smack the reprim away. “She was making a big deal about something that you got over when she can’t seem to get over her own shit herself. Mighty hypocritical. Besides,” he wrapped his now free arm around Ray’s shoulders. “If she’s pissed at me, she’s not pissed at you.”

“I don’t want her to be made at you.”

“Sara’s always mad at me for one reason or another.”

Ray sighed exasperatedly and rested his head against the tree. “… what about Mick?” He asked, brown eyes darting to gauge Len’s reaction the the question. 

Len looked apprehensive. “Mick… might try to start a fight with you to see who’ll win.” He paused before continuing. “Gideon showed us that newspaper clipping about that fight with your brother you mentioned. Now mick wants to have a macho contest.”

“Aw, come on!”

“Relax, Eagle Scout, I ain’t about to let Mick make you lose your-“

“Don’t you dare-“

“Cool.”

Ray groaned loudly as Len snickered.

“You’re awful. Terrible. I take back that nice heart warming discussion we just had. Screw you.”

Len laughed louder. “No you don’t. You’re all about that mushy heart-to-heart stuff.” 

Ray joined in on laughing shortly. 

The thief became somber suddenly, making direct and intense eye contact with ray. “I want you to know Raymond,” he started seriously, “that even if the whole crew is against you, I will be in your corner.” 

Ray looked at him softly. “You don’t need to be.” Ray was used to fighting his battles alone. He couldn’t drag Len into them. 

The thief shrugged. “Well, someone’s gotta keep and eye on you, anyway. You’re awful at taking care of yourself. Gotta make sure you eat, sleep, wake you up with an ‘Up and’…” Len made sure to be staring into Ray’s eyes. “Atom.”

Ray wanted to glare. He really did. But the glare lasted for about two seconds before he doubled over with laughter with Len.

It took another half hour if sniggering and silence followed by more sniggering until the pair finally decided to get back into the ship. 

So, Ray was kinda outed in front of the team, some dirty laundry was aired. But, at the very very least, (Len pushed a bowl of fruit and a glass of orange juice to the hero with a look that said “Eat or I’ll shove it down your mouth.”) he got someone in his corner.


End file.
